Invictus
by arctic-kat
Summary: Attending unwillingly the second Victory Ball, Severus was surprised by a certain curly-haired witch...


Invictus

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disclaimer: I don't own any of Harry Potter!

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He was drowning in the sea of numbness. Waves of pain-numbing portions and advanced re-energizing charms on his clothes and enchanted shoes were sustaining his body from collapsing on the shiny ministry ballroom floor. Noticing his struggle, Draco discreetly dragged him onto a flush chair to sit. "I'll grab some drinks for us."

While his god son was making his way into the cheery crowd of Victory Ball, his tired and barely working eyes scanned the crowd out of die-hard old habit of a spy.

Among blurry clouds of colorfully dressed witches and wizards, Champaign floating and music flowing, dance partners happily asked and accepted, there was a particular bright one animatedly engaged in conversations interrupted with several casual greetings in-between. Hermione Granger.

"Living up to her reputation as the greatest know-it-all of our age, she orchestrated complicate charms to locate and re-unite scattered families from the war, including bloody house-elves. The freaking charm works even internationally. Hell, she seems to be on some innovative rampage since she doesn't need to babysit Potter and Weasel any longer." Draco eyed her as handing over his god father a tall glass of ice tea.

As stony as ever, Severus just stared the crowd.

Brilliant, brave and mind-boggling know-it-all indeed. So much so to be able to save his life on the floor of the Shrieking Shack. She had begged and bugged him since Nagini's attack on Arthur Weasely, to teach her how to brew antivenin that Severus used for Arthur. He had deducted her house points and gave her days of detentions for bothering him, in which she eventually figured out how to brew the potion via subtly- dropped hints among insults and endless supply closet cleaning where the ingredients were mysteriously appeared, as well as brewing multiple batches of the blood-replenishing potion for the hospital wing as a part of her "punishment" - the knowledge and skill she prepared for the Boy-Who-Lived, but end up using them for saving the surly Professor - no less than in the thick of the Final Battle. The most reckless, stupid and blind Gryffindor bravery. Cheeks flushed and mess of wild curls bouncing, the star pupil of Gryffindor was radiant as the mid-summer sunshine.

After having some re-hydration and little relief as no one bothered to insult him nor acknowledged him in any manner, Severus relaxed a bit further into the flush chair at the least populated corner of the ballroom. He'd been dragged to this ball by endless nagging from Minerva and threats on Draco's business from Shacklebolt. He couldn't wait till Draco was done with business talks and would take him back to his sanctuary of home.

"Professor!" polite, but subtly excited voice, accompanied by fresh scent of lavender and vanilla, brought him to earth.

Wild mess of brown curls and bright butter-scotch eyes greeted him.

"I'm so glad that you're here! We've missed you last year, sir!"

Unwilling to voice anything, he curtly nodded once at Granger. How did she find him? Insufferable witch. He didn't want to face her. Absolutely didn't want to remind her that he was nearly mute and still weak. However, Granger didn't seem to be bothered at all that he couldn't carry on normal conversation nor by his fragile state, was just genuinely happy to see him. Regardless, Severus was embarrassed and desperately trying to find a way to send her back to wherever she came from.

"Has Draco accompanied you here? I volunteered, in case he was busy with business or bringing another partner, but he seems to allow no one the privilege."

She smiled again, her butter-scotch eyes dancing with warmth that sending him to twitchy-mode like a first year Hufflepuff.

To make matters worse, Severus noticed in the corner of his eye that Potter also spotted him thanks to his best female friend and started making his way to them. Bloody Gryffindors and their bleeding royal hearts.  
Without noticing Potter, Granger smiled brightly and held out her hand, "May I have this dance?"

That was unexpected, even for the spy-who-fooled-the-Dark-Lord. Better than hugged and thanked by the Boy-Who-Saved-the-World which would surely endorse the front page of the Prophet, he reasoned inwardly. Raising swiftly, Severus put his hand on Granger's sleeve cautiously avoiding to touch her arm. She led him to discreet corner of dance floor and started moving with light jive number playing at the moment. Severus found it was surprisingly easy to dance with her, who seems to be happy enough to do all the dance without demanding much from him. Granger circled and twirled effortlessly as if she owned the shiny ballroom floor, in a genuine delight that not caring whatsoever in the world around them. He felt dazzling enjoyment as his body was moving in such a fluidity as if he never was bitten by the fucking giant snake. Then he realized - she must have spelled some kind of charm enabling him to dance with his former graciousness. Insufferable know-it-all, as ever.

"It's so much more fun this year!" she claimed as coming around from a big twirl back to his vision. She was wearing some kind of high heel shoes which brought her eye-to-eye with the former professor, causing him stop breathing every time she twirled back.  
As if they were in the middle of night garden where the air was so fresh and fragrant, she inhaled deeply, taking a moment of calm and continued,  
"Oh professor, it was so sad last time. We were at a loss thinking of all the fallen ones. Rather overwhelming raw emotions, you see. It felt like more of the aftermath gathering rather than a victory celebration."

Sending her wild mess of curls flying, she twirled again, and came back to his eye level with flash of a brightest smile,  
"But this year, finally it does feels like a victory! We really have defeated the dark lord, haven't we?" she laughed.  
"Dancing with you here and now, I truly feel like a victor!"

She caught him off guard by making happy double twirls.  
"You are here, sound and free! Oh it was so worth it, isn't it?"

Free.

He was free.

He was in pain, had less mobility and almost no voice, but he had no master.

As free as the flying mess of chocolate curls.

Intelligent, powerful, royal and muggle-born, she was the embodiment of everything opposite that Voldermot preached. This brilliant young witch in his arms, looking into her eyes full of liquid butter-scotch warmth and brightest pride, he could also taste the victory.

Her brilliance. Her radiant youth and bright future. Her beautiful, beautiful magic.

It was worth it, indeed.


End file.
